


The Trojan Game: Achaea vs Troy

by orphan_account



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: M/M, Other, This was for an assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Achilles and Patroclus love each other and also play football





	The Trojan Game: Achaea vs Troy

I loved football. I loved the feeling of glory. The adrenaline of victory that flowed through the body. It was the legal version of ecstasy for me. I didn't know this passion would be my downfall, much less Patroclus'. 

Thinking back, I knew that it wasn't my fight and that maybe I shouldn't have entered this war. That didn't stop me, and as much as I regret it now, it doesn't make up for all the mistakes I made. 

It all started with Paris. I never trusted pretty boys then, and now I think it's safe to say that I trust them even less. He should have known that stealing one team's coach would have its consequences. I guess he was just too stupid to understand the extent of those consequences.   
There had always been a rivalry between the Troy and Achaea football teams, and Achaea had kind of always been searching for an excuse to finally wipe them out. Paris' theft of one of our most adored coaches was that excuse. 

Everyone knew about the relationship between Menelaus and Helen. And while Menelaus wasn't the greatest match to her beauty, any who understood the power of Achaea knew not to mess with that. Well almost everyone. Rumour has it that during last year's end of season celebrations, Paris fell for her and disregarded any integrity in order to seduce her into joining the Troy team. I honestly didn't believe it at first but as it turns out that rumour held true. Football wasn't just a game for these people. It was a war, and the battlefield was the oval. Unfortunately, they weren't the ones that suffered in the end. 

I remember that day like it was just yesterday. The memory of all the blood, sweat and tears still haunts me to this day. You would think it ridiculous the amount of suffering Paris caused by being too young and immature for his and everyone else's own good. Yet here we are. 

It was a sweltering hot afternoon in the Western suburbs of Perth. Both teams had been preparing for this match for months, and no one was ready to give in to the other. I didn't arrive until the end of the first quarter. Coach Agamemnon had scorned me and stole my phone after having lost his. After Patroclus, my phone was the most important thing in my life. It was the latest model, and I couldn't afford to buy another. Patroclus, on the other hand, was determined to play, so I lent him my football boots. Like my iPhone, the boots were very precious to me, and if anyone were to wear them, I would like it to be him. Nothing shocked me more than the knocking on my door towards what should have been the end of the first quarter. I was napping and waiting for the end of the game, so I could go home with Patroclus, so I didn't expect to be so miserably interrupted.   
Behind the door stood Antilochus, struggling to catch his breath. Through haggard breaths, he alerted me to Patroclus' condition. Hector had broken his arm during the scramble for the football. I was shaken to my core. My beloved was wounded doing what he loved, and I wasn't there to protect him. Hector had to pay.

I arrived as soon as possible. I had one thing on my mind, and that was vengeance. The second quarter was just about to start so while ignoring Agamemnon-I was still angry at him-I clambered into my football uniform and prepared for the battle of a lifetime. Lacking football boots, I had to steal Antilochus'. I knew what I needed to do. Hector was going to get his just desserts, and I was going to serve them cold. 

The game was hard. The scorching afternoon soon turned into a stormy evening and visuals were lost from all sides. That didn't stop me from chasing Hector. Behind his confident glare, I could see fear. He knew I was pissed and that I wasn't going to give up until I got what I wanted. It wasn't until the fourth quarter that Hector had begun slowing down. The scores were tight. Injuries on both sides had hindered the game greatly, but neither team was ready to lose. I wasn't here to beat Troy, my goal didn't sit between two poles. He stood on two legs, and I was soon going to change that. 

The ball was in Hector's possession. This was my chance. Having missed the first quarter, I still had some juice left in me. Just as he went to kick a goal, I rammed my body into his side. I poured all the power left in my body into the roughest shove I have made in my entire life. Luckily, for him, the ball had already hit his boot and flew between the goal posts. That's where his luck had ended. We all heard the distinct snap of what could only have been his ACL. He was out for the count and possibly the next few counts. That was the last thing I remembered of that day. 

Patroclus later informed me that just after I attacked Hector, Paris had pushed me, snapping my calcaneal tendon. My body went into shock due to the intense pain, and I didn't wake until the next day. Patroclus was sitting beside my bed, arm wrapped in a cast, a reminder of yesterday's events. I almost growled in anger. He insisted he wasn't angry with Hector, chided me for getting myself injured and hugged me. Apparently, Achaea won, not that I cared. I was just glad that he was okay. 

After all those injuries, none of all could really play football again. At least not as well as we once did. It hurt that I couldn't experience that ecstasy ever again but when I remember that Patroclus is by my side, that pain vanishes. I sometimes see Patroclus watch the football with a shadow of sadness in his eye and I feel a pang in my chest. That day had changed all of us.


End file.
